"More like babysitter," Bucky muttered under his breath. Then he decided to give an actual answer. "I guess? Maybe? I'm kind of just here to show you guys how these things work, I don't think I'll be leading any of your missions." He handed the kid, Mobius, a plate of pancakes. Across the table from him, Artus was eating his like syrup tacos. The gargoyle's hands were too big and clumsy to hold a fork and knife. 

Artus tilted his head at Danny. "My name's Artus, I'm a gargoyle." Although he still guess the other boy was halfway correct. He [i]did[/i] decorate the roof sometimes. He looked back at his pancakes. "Yeah, we have them pretty often. Mr. Barnes makes them about once a week, I guess." 

"Kid, what'd I tell you about the 'Mr. Barnes' thing? Call me Bucky, everyone else does." Being called 'Mr.' [i]anything[/i] just reminded James of how old he was. God, so old. 

"Yes sir, Mr. Bucky," Artus said, completely earnest.